Blood Flowers
by Thatsaporkpie
Summary: As an eight year old, Sookie's life is changed dramatically with the entrance of her great-great-grandfather Niall. He warns her peril is coming, and that a man, Eric, will come into her life. Vampire Eric is appointed as her protector, and it will soon become his biggest battle yet. Eric/Younger-Sookie.
1. Chapter 1

_**Blood flowers**_

Uncle B is coming over tonight for dinner. I don't like him very much. Sometimes he smells like alcohol and when I hear his thoughts about me, they make me feel funny. They really aren't the type of things you should think about a girl my age. I am eight years old.

Last time Uncle B came over for dinner, he tried to put his hand on my leg when my Granny wasn't looking, and touch, touch, touch. The only good thing about him coming over for dinner is that my Granny goes all out, and makes delicious food. She let's me lick both the beater's of cake icing and its gooey chocolate flavoured; my favourite. My best friend Tara's mom doesn't let her, because she says that's how you get sick with diabetes. Gran was also making some really nice spaghetti for Uncle B, and she was also yelling at my brother Jason because he hasn't done his homework yet.

Before Uncle B came over, I asked Granny if I could go outside and play for a bit. She asked if I have any homework from school to do, I said, _Just my reading_, and she said A_ll right, I can finish it after dinner so long as I play safely outside and don't go out too far._ She told me to put on my mittens and a coat so I don't get too cold out, so I did, and outside I ran.

I ran outside the back of the yard, where the grass gets really long, and I pick up some leaves and toss them into the air so it looks like snow. And it is cold out at this time, the sun is down and it is getting ready to become really dark, so I was thankful Granny told me to put on my coat and mittens. I reach down to gather up some more leaves, crinkling them in my hands because it sounds funny and pretty, and then I heard a funny sound. There was this noise and somebody said, _Hello, my great-great-granddaughter._ And then I was rather scared.

A funny man appeared near one of Gran's oak trees, and he was wearing a nice suit and had a cane and top hat. He reminded me of Willy Wonka, and I tried not to laugh at him. His hair was white and long, and when I crinkled up my face to listen into his thoughts I heard nothing, but good, clear silence. Usually I hear everyone, whether I like it or not; I hear Jason, my Granny, and Uncle B. I hate Uncle B's thoughts the most.

The man calls my name softly, _Sookie, Sookie, dear heart_, and I didn't know how he knew. I scoop up some leaves and maybe think about throwing them at him, but then it feels mean. He comes closer, wading through the grass with his funny wobbly walking cane, and he crouches down at eye-level with me. I'm not very tall. My friend, Tara, is taller than me, and I am shorter than most in my grade. Granny says I'll grow soon into a fine, young woman, and that height doesn't really matter.

The man tucks his white hair behind his ear, and I see that he has big, big pointy ears, like an elf. Granny says elves aren't real, they are fiction, but he looks like one. He looks like what I imagined elves would be like, so I ask, a bit scared, "Are you an elf? You've got funny ears, Mister."

And he laughs and smiles at that, a big, big smile that shows off funny teeth, and he says, "No, dear heart. I am fairy, as are you, dear one."

Granny says they're fictional, too, so I don't believe him at first. He doesn't have wings like a fairy would, so I ask, "Where are your wings?"

He says, "We fairies do not have wings, dear one."

"Granny says fairies are fictional, like elves, and dwarves, and goblins."

He laughs again. "Well, you might be surprised by what truly exists in the world that your dear Grandmother is not aware of, child."

"Why can't I hear your thoughts?" Granny tells me often to pretend I am normal, because then people won't feel tempted to hurt me because I am special. But I forget.

"Because, you are me." He pets me on the nose with a calloused forefinger gently. "You are extremely special."

I flush with pleasure. "Granny says so, too."

"But because you are so special and unique, you are also in grave peril, my dear."

I don't even know what half the words he said means, but I feel afraid and weird all the same. He looks at me very seriously, like my Grandmother does when she is mad with me or Jason.

"A man will be coming for you, on July 14th. Remember this date. I have set an arrangement with him; You will meet him out here, after dark. He will not cause you any harm, therefore you do not need to feel wary of him."

"July 14th." I try to keep it in my head, for safe-keeping.

"He will be an odd and peculiar man, but do not let it fear you, child. He goes by the name Eric. He will guide you and protect you well."

I hear a car pull up into the driveway, and I know it's Uncle B. The strange man starts, and backs away.

"July 14th," he whispers down at me urgently. "Eric. Meet him here come dark."

And then, with a _pop_, he is gone, and I am standing around alone.

* * *

_July 14th, July 14th. _Today on Granny's calendar it says the date the odd man says, which means I have to meet his Eric man after dark. I worried about it all day, trying to figure out how to excuse myself from Granny to get outside long enough. I be good, eat all my dinner without complaining, and wash my dish and cutlery. Then I ask her, in a very nice voice, if I may go outside. Gran says yes, but tells me not to stay out too late. I put on my mittens and run outside the back door. I go back out to the tree where the funny man appeared before, but no one is there. I look around the yard, and no one is there, either. So I play for a bit, collecting rocks and humming to myself, to keep myself in a good and patient mood.

But then I hear leaves crackle underneath footsteps, and I get scared. I grab a rock and hold it tightly in my fingers, staring off into the direction the sound comes from. A man appears, and he is very, very tall. The tallest man I've ever seen, even taller than my teachers at school, and Uncle B. He's wearing a funny suit that looks like the ones I saw men wear at my Mommy and Daddy's funeral. I open my mind to him, but like the other man, it's dead silent.

"Are you Eric?" I hiss cautiously, and he falls down on his knees to the grass and does a weird curtsey like a prince, like a gentleman. He closes his eyes briefly, then reopens them to lift his chin up to meet my eyes. I almost gasp; His eyes are bright and a sparkling grey, like the deepest part of an ocean. He is a real man; He has short, sparse curly hairs on his chin and above his top-lip, and real men shave. Jason doesn't, so he isn't a real man yet.

"Greetings," he says softly, in a throaty voice. "I am Eric, son of Ulfrik, and turned immortal." I look carefully at his ears, but they don't seem pointy and funny like the other man's. "And you are Sookie Stackhouse, great-great-granddaughter to the prosperous Niall Brigant. I am dutifully at your service, young fairy-human."

He looks around my face with his eyes real quietly.

I furrow my brow. "Are you a fairy, too?"

"No. I am not, child. I am immortal." His lips part as he smiles slightly; He has two weird teeth. Two weird sharp, pointy teeth, like dogs teeth you see when they yawn. "And I have been appointed as your protector. Given your young age, it would seem you have very much to learn."

"Learn what?" I'm nervous. I hope he doesn't mean more homework. Especially not something involving math. I am terrible with numbers.

"Ah, eager." His smile widens. "That is a very becoming quality of you. But you will need patience, for what it is I am going to teach you." His eyes run down my face, in a very severe way that reminds me of Granny. "There is trouble in the midst. In order to survive, you must allow me to teach you everything I possibly can. Your life depends on it."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

Granny tucks me into bed, and I ask her if she'll read a story to me. My favourites at the moment are Lord Of The Rings and Harry Potter. Though the words are a bit iffy to understand, I like to close my eyes and listen to Granny's voice as she reads. I like to pretend I am right there, in the tale, with the characters. They become real to me then. After a few pages, I got sleepy. But I try to stay awake, as much as possible. I want to hear the part in Lord Of The Rings where the big battle begins. Gran sees that I am getting tired too, because I hear her close-up the book. I reopen my eyes, making a cheeky face at her, and she laughs at me and touches my cheek.

"Granny, are fairies and vampire's real?"

"Well, I don't know about fairies, dear." She smiles at me nicely. "But as for vampire's, well, you know that they came out of the coffin two-years-ago. You were very young, at the time. But they did come out into the open admitting they existed, honey."

I remember seeing on the news the announcement they made for all vampires, though I can't really remember much of it. I didn't understand what was going on at the time, and why people were making a stink about it. The vampire I had met tonight, Eric, he seemed real friendly, and not scary at all, which I imagine vampire's were meant to be. I remember, one night, Granny got angry because Jason and I stayed up late watching a creepy film on a vampire, who did terrible things, like murdered children and he drank a pretty woman's blood. I couldn't sleep for weeks after that.

I sit up against my pillow slowly. Gran tucks the blanket underneath my chin. "Do you think vampire's are evil, Granny?" I ask her.

She seems to think very carefully on it for a few seconds. She gets a wrinkled look on her face, when she thinks so hard about things. It's how I can tell when she is being extra thoughtful with her vocal words. "Not exactly. I think, vampire's are exactly like us. They just have different... needs from us. I think we are all capable of evil, despite what we are."

"Do you think a vampire could be nice?" The vampire Eric seemed really, really nice to me tonight.

"I think they could be, if they wanted to, yes. Why do you ask, dear?"

Uh-oh. "No reason, Granny. I was just wondering..." I've never been a very good liar. I feel guilty when I do lie to my Granny, because I love her so much. She doesn't like me lying either. She wants me to be an honest girl with her, most of the time. She says that often whenever I do something wrong, and try to pin the blame on Jason. One day I spilled milk all over the floor by accident, I dropped the carton, it just slipped right from my fingers. Slushy milk had gone everywhere in the kitchen and I had tried to blame my older brother for it, because I heard Granny's thoughts that morning and she already didn't seem too pleased that day. I didn't want to make her any more angry than she already was, and poor Jason had to clean up all the milk even though it wasn't his doing. He got me later though for it by pulling my hair real hard that I almost cried. I had deserved it, though, I knew I had. "Granny, do you think I'm special?"

"Yes, and you know it, pet. You're one of the most special girl's in the world. You're almost more special than your brother, because of your little... ability."

"Did Mom and Dad think I was special because of my ability?" I've always believed not.

Mom and Daddy would fight all the time about it. My Mom once got so freaked-out, she took me to a lady doctor, whose office smelled like cats. I remember the lady had me drawing with crayons and she even gave me a lollipop while she asked me about my ability. I knew she hadn't believed me; She thought I was making it up. I've always wondered if there was something wrong with me, and at school, it's hard to fit in. Other kids think I'm weird, because sometimes I space out and can't concentrate on learning. The thoughts of children in class becomes so loud sometimes I have to go lie down in an empty room, because I get headaches. But my friend Tara is the only one who doesn't believe I'm weird. She thinks the weirdest person in the universe is her Momma, because sometimes her Momma falls asleep on the couch and snores real loudly, and grabs her too roughly when she's drunk. I've seen the bruises on Tara's arms. Her Momma drinks a lot, so Tara and I swore that when we got to her age, we wouldn't drink anything. We don't want to end up like her Momma.

"You know, your Mamma and Daddy loved you very, very much."

"But they argued over my ability a lot."

"I know they did, dear. It was just very hard for them to come to grips with. They could see it was very stressful for you." She smiles at me, in a sad way. "They were mostly concerned about their daughter. I am very concerned about you, as well. You know I always am. I feel somewhat sad because of what you must have to go through, pet. I know you get a lot of headaches and find school difficult."

"It isn't so bad, Granny," I tell her, attempting to smile. I know when my Granny needs me to lie, and this was one of those moments. At least once the day of school is finished, I can come straight home. I find it easier to concentrate and get my work done when I sit in my room all by myself. It helps me to think straight. I've heard thoughts ever since I can remember. You never get used to it, and I'm not sure if I ever will. In some ways, I know it'll make me into more of a grown-up. I can pick up words faster, and it makes me more of a bigger, smarter girl.

"Uncle B is coming over next weekend. I was thinking of making a special meringue pie for the occasion." Gran knows how much I love the fancy, yummy deserts she makes. But I can't help frowning and groaning at the mention of Uncle B. I know it is mean, because he is my relative and I must love him, but I don't love him, really. He makes me feel funny, like invisible monsters are crawling on me whenever he looks at me. He's always looking at me funny. Sometimes he tells me to sit on his lap so he can read to me - which I do to be nice- but I don't really hear the words because he is always thinking about my skin, or my hair, or my nose.

"I know it's very bad of me, Granny, but I don't think I like Uncle B. He's funny."

"Funny in what way, dear?" She puts on her softer, concerned voice for me.

"I don't know. He just is." I can't find the words for it. "I hear him, with my ability. Some of the things I hear, it makes me feel funny. He makes me feel weird."

"Well, what do you hear?"

"He thinks about how baby-smooth my skin is, and how puckered and knobby my knees are. He thinks I wear pretty dresses, and that his hands feel nice on my skin."

Now Granny is looking at me funny. I feel scared, because she must think I'm disgusting or weird.

"Sookie, pet. Does he touch you?" she asks it in her no-nonsense voice, one that tells me I better not lie to her now or else I'll get into trouble.

"He does. When he came over, he got me to sit up on his lap. He was reading to me, but one of his hands wasn't holding the book."

I get bad feelings when Granny gets to her feet. She puts on a fake face, and kisses me goodnight. Next weekend, she makes her meringue pie, but I notice Uncle B doesn't come over for his visit.

* * *

I'm at school, doodling in my book. The teacher has set out bright crayons and pencils, and we're all drawing. I'm sitting next to Tara at the desk, and she looks extra pretty today, because her dark, black hair is up in a braid. It makes her face look browner and her black eyes more sparkly. She gives me a bright smile and comments on my drawing, telling me how great it is.

I'm trying to draw fairies. Really, it looks like stick-figures with big wings. I am trying to draw the fairy man I met, who says he is my great-great-great grandfather. He didn't have wings on him, but I draw his funny ears and his walking stick.

My teacher, Mr. Melotte, moves over to our table and leans over my shoulder. He pats me on the back. "That's an excellent drawing, Sookie. Very imaginative."

Mr. Merlotte is my absolute favourite teacher at school. He is very friendly, and I told him about my ability. He is the only one of my teacher's that believes me and doesn't think I'm a liar. Sometimes when he notices I'm near to getting headaches, he will take me out of class and help me breathe. Mr. Merlotte is really funny. He always makes real sounding dog barks in class, which puts everyone into giggles. One day, during nap time, he fell asleep on his desk and started making all these funny animal noises. He's very good at them.

"Thanks, Mister M, sir. I am trying to draw my great-great-great grandfather. He's a real fairy."

Mr. M gives me a funny look. "Is he, now?"

"Yes, he is. He has pointy ears and a walking cane. But he doesn't have wings, though. How do I draw vampire's like Mister Eric?"

"Mr. Eric?" Mr. Merlotte sounds confused.

"Yes, like Mister Eric. He is a real vampire. My great-great Grandfather says I'm a real fairy, and Mister Eric is a vampire to protect me. He's immoral."

"Immoral?" Mr. Merlotte laughs, in a nervous way. "I believe the word you mean is immortal, Sookie."

"Immortal," I chirp, like a parrot. "Yes. Immortal."

He pats me on the shoulder again. "You keep drawing now." He moves away from our table. He thinks I'm being weird. As he walks further away from us, I hear him say a bad word underneath his breath. He takes the Lord's name in vain; Something that my Granny would send me up into my room for hours for doing. She says it isn't very Christian. Once I've completed my drawing, I tear it out of my book. Maybe I can give it to the vampire as a gift?

* * *

I eat my dinner, very quickly. I can't sit still, I am very excited to see Mister Eric, the vampire again.

I push all my peas into my mouth, and cram in all my scrambled eggs in two goes. Then Granny says I must have worked up a big appetite at school today. I wash up my plate and cutlery, put them away. Then I race up to my room and fold up my drawing in half to give it to the vampire. I look outside my bedroom window for him. It's dark and hard to see outside now. I find it funny that vampires only come out at dark. I know it's because they don't like the sun, but I wonder what could really happen to them if they did come out during the day. Would they burn? Something tells me probably, they would. The vampire appears out of nowhere, stepping near the long tree out in the yard. I grin so hard my face hurts. I put on my woollen hat that has bells on it, tuck my hair behind my ears, and run downstairs and out the front door with the bells jingling after me.

I like this vampire. He seems interesting, and he doesn't seem mean at all. I especially like the color of his eyes, and his chin. His silence, too. His silence is the best thing in the world after a day stuck in school.

He is sitting down on the grass when I approach him. He is wearing one of his funny black suits again. He reminds me of a man at a funeral, for some reason. His hair is combed back, and he looks my way the instance I hop to him. I think it's the bells on my woollen hat he hears.

"Good evening," he greets me, unsmiling. I hold out my drawing nervously to him. He looks up at my face, still not smiling, then takes it from my hand. He opens it and inspects it very quietly for a moment, his bright eyes scanning down the picture I drew. I'm almost holding my breath, wriggling for praise on it. He nods, and then folds it back up. The drawing is shoved swiftly into the pocket of his suit.

I feel a bit crushed, like someone had torn the head off my favourite doll. "Don't you like my drawing?" I ask uncertainly. I don't think he does very much. Perhaps it was wrong giving a drawing to somebody I don't know. I've only met him once before; the night the fairy told me he would come. "You don't, do you?"

"Well, I am keeping it, aren't I?" He pats the pocket he put it in with a white hand flat against it.

I can't really tell whether he likes it for real or not. Boy, I wish I knew his thoughts on it. "I did it today at school." I sit down near him, crossing my legs. He has very long legs, legs that seem as though they go on for miles and miles in his dark trousers. He seems to always be wearing black. I guess vampire's like the color. "Why do you always wear black?"

"How do you know whether I always wear black or not? You've only seen me twice." It's a very good point.

"That's true. Do you like black or something? You look like you've only just come from a funeral!"

Something in me saying that makes him chuckle quietly. I feel a bit nervous and shy. He must think I'm funny, and probably not in the way I'm wanting.

"Are we starting my learning today?" He still hasn't explained to me what it is he will be teaching me. I've wondered all the time.

His lips curl into a faint smile. "Eager, as ever."

I am, no doubt about it. I sit up straighter and pluck grass off the ground with my fingers. "Are you good friend's with my great-great fairy Grandfather?"

"Not quite. But I am considered a trustworthy ally in his eyes."

"What's ally mean?"

"Why is there bells on your hat?" He looks my hat over.

"I don't know." I shrug, confused myself. "There just is. Are you a friendly vampire?"

I can tell I'm starting to bug him. He gets an annoyed look across his face. "Do you have to constantly ask questions?"

"Sorry," I whisper, thoroughly chided. I can't help it.

"Can you hear me?" Now he's the one asking all the questions.

"Nope. Why is that? I couldn't hear fairies, either. Don't you think at all?"

"Of course, I do. And that answer to the question as to why you are unable to hear me, I do not know myself."

Silence. "So, are you gonna teach me something today?"

He sighs loudly. I know I'm annoying him again. He shifts a bit on the grass to face me head-on. "All right, I will feed your curiosity, only because I find it extremely irritating how eager you are. How do you kill a vampire?"

That question has me drowning at sea. "I don't know. How?"

"There are various ways. Tell me them."

"Is that what I'm learning from you? Why are you teaching me this?"

"Just answer me," he says, raising his voice a notch in a scary, cold way.

"Um, all right." I think fast. "Sunlight?"

"Close, but very wrong. Vampire's who intend to harm you would most likely be coming during the night hours, when you're least expecting it. What will you do, when there is no sunlight on your side?"

I don't like this question much. It's far too hard. "I don't know. I really don't. I can't say I've ever thought about killing a vampire before."

He sighs again and runs his fingers through his hair. "All right. I want you to do something for me, right now." I sit up straighter, listening carefully. I am excited; I don't know why I am at all. "I want for you to go inside, and find something silver."

"Something silver?"

"Yes."

"Like a bracelet or something?" Granny gave me a butterfly bracelet. I'm pretty sure that's silver.

"Yes, anything like that even. I want you to fetch something silver, and return to me with it."

I can't say I understand why he wants me to, but I just do. I climb to my feet, and go back inside. I head up the stairs to my bedroom, look through my jewellery box. I find the bracelet with all the pretty butterflies on it, and rush back downstairs. I peek into the living room to check and see what Granny and my brother are doing; They're watching the T.V. When I return back outside, I discover he is still sitting in his position on the grass. It's a little weird. He reminds me of a statue.

"Got it," I tell him proudly. I dangle it in the air near his face.

"Very good, little girl." He pulls up one of his sleeves to his elbow, then holds his hand out to me. I eye him, feeling scared and a bit freaked. "I want you to lay the silver on my skin. I want you to watch and listen very carefully to my reaction to it."

"Okeydokey." I do as he says, dangling the butterfly thread near the crook of his pale elbow. I am concentrating very hardly, and my face feels scrunched. The instance one silver butterfly touches his skin, something funny happens. Smoke begins to waft near me, and I gasp. I remove it away, startled.

"Do not be frightened," he says gently. "I will heal very quickly. Do it again, only for longer this time."

So I just do. I lay three butterflies on his arm, and wisps of light grey smoke start curling around me. The vampire gives out a very funny reaction to it; He makes a strange grunting noise, and his fangs dart out menacingly with an audible click. And then, he removes his arm, and slowly holds it out to me. His skin looks bubbling, as though it's simmering away. Then, without warning, the flesh closes back up, until his skin looks clear again.

"Whoa," I breathe.

"Now you know one of our weaknesses. And that is something silver. I suggest you carry silver on you, at all times." I nod, very seriously, hoping to please him. "Now, I want you do something else for me this time..."

I stare at him anxiously. I hope it isn't something else that will hurt him. "What?"

"Your great-great Grandfather recommends we do this. I'm not entirely sure I would like to do it, but then again, I take this very seriously." He holds out his hand to me, his long fingers spread and eager.

"What?"

"Take my hand."

Nervously, I slide my fingers through his. His skin feels so much cooler than mine, and hard. It's weird. His fingers are far thicker than mine, bigger. He makes my hands feel like tiny hands.

"I will tell you what I am going to do to you, so you won't get scared and scream. Do you understand?" I nod, swallowing nervously. He climbs up onto his knees, and gently turns my hand around with his fingers. "I am going to take in some of your blood. It won't be a very big amount, I assure you. But when you feel my fangs go into your skin, it may hurt a little bit. The pain will not get all that unbearable that you will cry, all right?"

"Why, though?"

"Your great-great Grandfather wishes us to exchange blood. It also means that you will need to take in some of mine, in return. It may be strange, but Niall takes your protection extremely seriously. He believes it is necessary. If we share blood, I will be able to sense you, at all times. This means I will understand how you are feeling, little girl. If anything frightens you, I will know of it. I will also be able to find you more easily. This means I will also be able to protect you easier."

His expression is very grim; His bright grey eyes search mine deeply for my permission.

"All right, then," I give in. I'm very nervous. I don't like pain very much.

"Thank you for your drawing," he says suddenly, and I have a feeling he is only just saying that. "I liked it; very much so. I will keep it with me, always. You are extremely talented for a young fairy-human."

I feel happy as a clam over that. I grin brightly. I hardly register what he is doing, when he takes the tip of my forefinger and guides it towards his left fang. He pinches into my skin, and I try my very hardest not to make a sound. His eyes remain on mine, as he pushes my finger deeper into his mouth, curling his lips over it. His tongue is cool, and wet. He starts sucking gently, pushing his tongue around the tip of my finger, left-right, left-right. It tickles and gives off a funny pulling, tight sensation on my skin, as he sucks and pulls in his cheeks to draw blood out. I can see his Adam's apple on his throat bob and the muscles twitch in his neck, as he swallows. Then after a bit, he release my finger and a string of saliva breaks from his mouth, attached to my finger. He licks his lips slowly, and makes a deep noise, like the noise somebody makes to let people know they're enjoying the food they've been served. Jason makes that noise all the time at dinner.

"Very good," he breathes, sounding very winded. "Now, it is your turn."

* * *

**I want to thank you all so much for your lovely response and alerts I have received on this. Do you find it weird, eight-year-old Sookie with Eric exchanging blood? Haha.** **Feel free to let me know your thoughts, as I did love reading them.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I got into trouble today at school. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I get mad easier than I usually do. A girl in my class, who isn't my friend, called me a freak because of my gift. I pulled her by the hair, and I must have done it harder than I realized because she broke down crying and Mr. Merlotte pulled me out of class and went real mad at me. Granny went real mad when I got home, too. She says I am grounded, and that I have to stay in my bedroom for the rest of the night. I didn't even think I had pulled the girl's hair that hard, but I guess I did because of how sad she got about it, and how in trouble I got into.

I don't know what is wrong with me lately. I keep getting angry. I yell at Jason for no reason and call him stupid. Granny says I am starting more fights with Jason than I usually do too. Sometimes I wonder if it is my own anger or if it is somebody else's. Can it belong to the vampire, Mr Eric? He told me, after I bit him like a dog, that we may start to feel the same things. Could that be what he meant? It's scary, though. I can't seem to control how grumpy I get. I get grumpy a lot, and want to throw things around the house

Because Gran sent me to bed early, I sit in my room in my pyjamas. It feels way too early and it is boring sitting up all night with nothing to do. I'm not even tired yet. Usually, I feel tired around nine o'clock at night, but Gran says I have to stay up here, I'm only allowed out to go to the bathroom. I try to read one of my books, but then there is a funny noise. Something hits the glass of my window, a rock I think, and I become scared.

I climb out of bed and peek outside my curtain to find the vampire is there, looking right at me through the window. It is a bit funny because the ground is a long way down from it. "Let me in," he says, and so I do. I pull open my window, and step back. He looks like he is floating on invisible string; It looks freaky. "Say I can come in," he says quietly, so I say that as well.

He climbs in through my window and turns around to shut it.

"How did you do that?" I ask, feeling scared.

"I can fly, small human," he says. I don't believe him for a second, but then he looks real serious.

"Vampire's can fly?" I must say it too loud, because he presses a hand into my mouth.

"Quiet," he hisses through gritted teeth, and it reminds me of Gran. I get down my knees and crawl underneath my bed, like a dog, pretending to hide. I can see his feet from underneath the bed as he walks around my room slowly.

"Hey, where did the human go?" he says to himself. I want to laugh, but I make sure I don't. The timing isn't right yet, I have to jump out at the right time to scare him. "Little human, are you here?" he calls in a whispered sing-song voice. I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop my giggles. "This is strange. The fairy-human has disappeared. It seems she has mastered her teleportation skills quicker than usual."

I watch his feet disappear and the bed squeak from above my head.

I slither onto my belly, and crawl off into the opposite side. Holding my breath, I risk a quick peek. I spy at him, as he touches my pillow with fascination. Then I can't wait a second longer, so I jump up and startle him from behind.

"BOO!"

"Jesus." He clutches a hand over his chest and peers behind his shoulder at me, alarmed. I think he is faking more than he lets on to be scared, though. "Please don't give an old man a heart attack. It isn't very nice of you."

I stare him down. He doesn't look like an old man. Old men are meant to be wrinkly and grey and hunchbacked. He looks as old as my teacher, Mr. Merlotte. "You're not an old man, are you?"

"Not quite. But I am over a thousand-years-old."

"You're playing me like a fiddle," I grumble, crossing my arms over my nightgown. "I may be eight, but I'm still smart. No one can be a thousand-years-old, can they?"

He smiles at me, and his funny two teeth show. "Well, I am. And your Grandfather Niall has reached over five-hundred and ten."

"That's a lie. My Granny told me people only live until they're one-hundred years old!"

"Ah, yes. Normal human folk, perhaps. But what you are forgetting is that I am not an average, normal human. I am vampire. I am immortal, little girl."

"Can I live to be that old?" I ask excitedly. I think it would be pretty cool. Death scares me.

He is silent for a moment, thinking real hard on that. "I don't know," he says quietly. "Only time will tell."

"Do you still have my drawing? If not, I can always draw you another one?"

"Of course, I have it." He slips two fingers into his jacket, and pulls it out. I feel myself flush with pride. "I said I would carry it with me always, did I not?"

"Yep, you did."

"I am a man who keeps his word. Can you do that for me, also?"

"Do what?"

"Keep your word."

"Keep it on what?"

He looks a little frustrated by my back-chatter. My Grandmother often gets that way, too. She says sometimes I act like an annoying little parrot, a chatter-box. I can't help it, though.

"About me, of course. About me, and fairies."

I feel a bit scared, because it's already far too late. "But I've already talked to Granny?"

"Right. And does she believe you?"

Huffing, I climb up on my bed and sit near him on my belly. "Nope, she doesn't. She thinks you're my imaginary vampire friend, and that fairies aren't real."

"Well, your Grandmother is very wrong. I am real, aren't I?"

"I don't know." I make a face at him.

"Then pinch me. If you feel skin, you know for a fact that I am real and am not your imaginary friend."

"Okay." Leaning up on my elbows, I reach out and yank on his earlobe. I feel hard cold skin. He must be real then, like I thought. I yank again, just to be sure, and he makes a very weird noise at me; a deep dog-like growl. Frightened, I place my hands back onto the cover of my bed. I've never heard somebody make noises like that before. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You made a weird noise?"

He gives me his annoyed look. "I don't like to be pulled and poked at like some animal at a zoo."

"Sorry," I whisper glumly. "I won't do it again, I promise."

"Give me your hand," he orders, facing me on the bed.

"What! Why?" Oh, I hope it isn't the blood thing again. It made me feel icky last time.

"I won't hurt you. I just want to show you something. Stretch your fingers out and show me."

"Fine," I sigh. Pulling myself up with my knees resting on the spongy mattress of my bed, I put my right hand out slowly, careful not blink as I watch what he is doing. He slowly brings his left hand out too, and my fingers shake without my control, as he brings his slowly closer and closer, until I feel the cool heel of his palm touching mine. My warm palm and fingers extended halfway to his, stopping way way short of his middle joints. It makes me feel tiny, and him huge.

"Now, I want you to close you eyes," he says, his voice soft as a whisper. I close them immediately like a good girl. "Now, think of something that deeply upsets you."

I peek at him out of one eye. "Like what, though?"

"Anything. Think of something that makes you mad, even."

Now something mad is very easy to think of. I think of Jason using up all the milk this morning before I was able to use it in my cereal. I think of a girl at my school, Arlene, pulling my hair and taunting me. I think of all the people that have called me mean names. Freak. Loser. Weirdo.

Mister Eric makes a sharp noise of surprise through his mouth. "Well done. Concentrate and continue thinking about things that make you mad. But I want you to open your eyes this time, and look at what your hand is doing. Focus."

Still thinking of all the times kids at school have called me mean names that make me angry, I carefully reopen my eyes to see what our hands look like. I can feel a funny tingling in my fingertips. When I see what my hand is doing, I gasp and lose all my concentration, because I'm so shocked by what is happening. A funny white silent stream of light is passing through my fingers. It seems to be pushing his hand further and further away. But then I lose concentration and it fizzles slowly out.

"What was that?" I ask nervously.

"You did that all by yourself." He sounds very happy with me. "Niall will be pleased with your quick progress."

"But why did it happen?" I demand.

"It happened, because you're a fairy and you are able to do these things."

"But _why_? What else can I do?" I'm talking super loud. He doesn't look very happy by this. He puts a finger to his lips.

"Quiet, not so loud. You will learn more, within time. But you're just going to have to be patient."

I frown. Gran often says I'm the most impatient person in the universe. "Why are you teaching me how to be a fairy? Why all this stuff?"

"Because something dangerous is coming for you," he tells me gravely. "You will need to learn how to protect yourself, and it is very important that you do learn how to. Trouble might come to you when I'm not able to reach you. You need to learn to rely on yourself, and trust your own instincts. You mustn't tell anybody that you can do that with your fingers, either. All right? It's very important that you don't."

"Why can't I?"

"Because the bad people who come to harm you may try to use it against you."

I eye him doubtfully. "How do I know who the bad people are?"

"Don't trust any wolves, do you understand me? Do not trust any strange looking men who are able to turn into dogs. Do not trust any other vampires, either."

"Then how do I know for real that your my friend?"

"Because Niall informed you, and you alone, that he sent me for you."

I guess that makes sense then. "Okay. Uh, I have to go to bed soon."

"Of course, and I will let you." He moves off my bed so I can get in. I pull down my covers, and slip inside. He stands around, watching me as I lean the back of my head against my pillow. His hands are clenched and he looks funny. A bit nervous and shy. "Well, goodnight."

I sit up hastily. "D'you have to leave?"

"I do, only for a short while."

"You could sleepover? If you don't have a home, you can sleep in my room?"

He smiles. "But I do have a home. In Shreveport, where my friend, another vampire, is waiting on me."

"Oh." Shreveport? I've heard of that before. "Is your vampire friend, like... your girlfriend?"

He laughs throatily at me. "No, thank God."

"Why 'thank God'?"

"She wouldn't make a very good girlfriend."

"Why not?"

"She just wouldn't." He shrugs, then looks down at his shoes. "Well, goodnight again, small human."

"My name is Sookie!"

"Yes, yes. Sookie. I have to go now."

"Will you be coming back anytime soon?"

"Uh, I'm rather busy unfortunately, Sookie. But hopefully I will fly in soon. Probably next week."

I roll my eyes at the flying part. "Okay."

"Goodnight." He waves at me, and then a minute later, he has disappeared. Where'd he go so quickly? Rolling onto my side, I glance down under my bed. Hmmm. He isn't there. How funny.

* * *

Thank you for being so kind and for reading the story. Don't worry; Sookie won't always be a young girl. I'm intending to make her age progress :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for your kind reviews and for showing you interest! Hope you enjoy this one!**

**Chapter Four**

_(Sookie is Fourteen)_

I am sitting on my bed, combing out my hair. It has gotten the longest I've ever managed to grow it before; I haven't cut it in a little over a year. It goes down my back in thick strands. I like my hair. I think it is about the only thing about myself that I like. Today at school, a boy called me ugly. It really hurt me, at the time. In fact, it still does. Boy's can really suck. I think Eric is the only man who I like. Even my brother ticks me off; He keeps saying cruel things to me about my appearance that makes me feel even more self-conscious than I already am with myself. Eric is sitting in the armchair near my window. I have made a little nest for him out of spare pillows so he can be more comfortable. Right now, he is listening to my iPod, the ear buds pushed in his ears, and he is playing the music _so_ loud, I can hear it all the way from where I sit on my bed. He likes listening to my music. He finds iPod's a funny little invention (his words, of course; Not mine). He came to my window a few hours after dark. He likes doing that, I've learned. He still likes to wear black, too, which is funny. Tonight he is wearing a padded zipped-up leather jacket, old jeans, and massive leather boots. He reminds me of a blond, powerful imitation of Danny from Grease.

I made sure to keep my window unlocked for him this morning before I went to school just so I wouldn't forget and so here he is.

I brush my hair as I watch him fiddling with my iPod, switching songs. He likes the real loud rock music best. One of these days, once I get a job and can afford it, I'll have to buy him an iPod. It is definitely on my to-do list.

"Eric, do you think I'm ugly?" I ask nervously. It's been haunting me all day.

He pretends not to hear me, which is just plain bull, because I know for a fact he can. Vampire hearing is meant to be really good. I know for a fact that Eric is capable of hearing from miles and miles away.

"Eric," I call, raising my voice a notch. He still pretends not to hear me, so I wave my arms around to get his attention. Finally. He rolls his eyes at me and yanks one of the ear-buds out.

"What?"

"I asked you a question."

"Repeat it. I did not hear you."

_Liar, liar, pants on fire._ "I asked if you thought I was ugly?" I tuck my hair behind my earlobe and tilt my chin silently, trying to see if that will make me look pretty in his eyes. "Am I ugly, do you think?"

His look turns suddenly defensive. "When did I say you were ugly?"

"No, not you. You didn't, but this boy at school did. He said I was ugly. Is that true?"

He shrugs and then yanks the other ear-bud out, sitting up in the chair. "It's subjective."

I start to panic. "What's that supposed to mean? I am ugly, or what?"

"Not everyone will find you the prettiest girl in the world. If they don't, fuck them. There will be plenty of others that will."

"So you don't think I'm pretty? That's what you're saying here?" I am flooded with certainty over the expression on his face. Oh, God. Even my vampire friend who has been in my life since I was eight-years-old things I'm ugly. What hope is left for me now? "You do, don't you?" I ask, worrying. "You totally think I'm ugly!" I stare at him miserably. He just picks at my ear-buds with his fingernails. He looks very uneasy. If I only could read his mind, how much easier life would be.

Finally, he looks at me. He raises one eyebrow. "I never said I thought you were ugly, Sookie. You're putting words into my mouth. I never said that."

"Then just tell me," I demand uneasily. "Am I ugly or not?"

It's obvious he doesn't want to answer that question. He crosses his legs and stares down at his shoes, like a man stuck in a tricky and dangerous situation. I sigh and crawl off my bed. I move over to where he is sitting, and sit on the arm rest, pulling my feet up into his lap. My socks are a striped pink. He leans away from me to create some distance. I ignore this.

"Tell me!" I slap him on his thigh. He doesn't flinch or give out a noise of pain or anything. "Just tell me, Eric. Please. Otherwise I won't be able to sleep, and I won't wanna have to go to school ever again. Am I ugly? Yes or no?"

He won't look at me, so I resort to staring at him. He doesn't like it when I do that. It makes him frustrated, and restless. After only a few minutes of dead silent staring, he cracks underneath the pressure. I win. Finally.

"No," he mumbles quietly.

"What?" I can hardly hear him.

"I said, no. You aren't ugly."

I grin so hard it hurts. "Then what's the most prettiest thing about me?"

"Your smell," he breathes anxiously. He still won't look at me. He keeps his eyes to the ground. I think he's embarrassed.

I make a face at him. "My smell?" I repeat, in outrage. "I ask you what you think is the most prettiest thing, and all you can say is my smell? What?"

"I need to take a leak," he says decisively, pulling himself out of the arm-chair to his feet. I know a liar when I spot one. He doesn't even need to pee. He's dead.

"No, you don't," I argue, "You don't need to pee. You can't. I'm not that silly."

"Actually, I do. And I can." He keeps his back facing me.

"Bullcrap," I laugh. "You've been in my life since I was eight-years-old. That's six years, and not even _once_ in that time frame did you need to excuse yourself to pee! You're just trying to avoid answering my question!"

He turns swiftly to look at me; His hands on his hips. He doesn't like being called a liar. He gives me one of his looks that I've come to learn throughout the years well. It is supposed to be his intimidating look, but since I'm used to it he fails big time. It's a look he gets where he curls his upper lip slightly in a way to show his fangs, and then he widens his eyes deliberately so they get a crazed look about them.

It has completely the opposite effect on me that he tries for each and every time. Instead of getting scared, I always end up a quaking mess in silent laughter.

"Your look doesn't work on me," I tell him smugly. "You don't scare me. You can't glamour me either. I am immune to all your superpowers!" I throw my fist in the air to congratulate myself, and he doesn't look very impressed by that.

I know he hates that he can't glamour me. Everything, all my actions, are out of my own free will. I can't be hypnotised to do anything at a vampire's beck and call. I'm real pleased I can't be glamoured, though. Reaching behind me with my hands, I push one of the cushions higher up my back to support my spine in the arm-chair. Then I lean over to my table and grab my art-book. I've really grown into drawing this year at school. It seems to relieve my mind of all stress, and keeps me preoccupied. It also helps make it easier to put my mental shield up, which Eric taught me, too, like most things. I've gotten a bit better at it too; Before, I used to just draw silly stick-people with no faces. Now, if I really out some effort into it, I can sketch out real looking head shapes and eyes.

"I'm drawing you," I announce to Eric happily, and he groans. Eric hates when I try to draw him; He is my art subject all the time. I just find him fascinating for some reason. His face, his features. His fangs, especially. Fangs are always a real thrill to draw. He just has this brutal yet sweet quality to him. I love attempting to draw him best.

"Do you want to draw me like this?" He keeps his mean look in place with some skill.

"Nope. Just look normal. Maybe even smile a bit."

"You know I am not much of a smiler, Sookie."

"Why not, though? You have a nice one." I reach down and select a pencil. I think the ultimate reason I like drawing Eric so much is because he has mastered the art of stillness. I swear, he could remain still for hours. I start sketching lightly the outline of his face, but then he goes and makes a horrible noise on me that makes me jump by accident. "Don't move, I said," I warn him, using my eraser frantically to rub it all out. "And _please_ stop making terrible noises while you're at it. I hate it when you do that!"

He sighs deeply without moving his lips.

"Thank you," I mutter, poking out my tongue at him.

"I forgot to tell you: Niall wishes to see you tomorrow." I feel a surge of excitement with that news; I've only seen my fairy Grandfather once, and that was when he appeared the first time when I was younger and told me all about Eric and the dangers I was in. The mysterious danger hadn't happened for me as yet, but I always kept my eyes open and my silver bracelet on. In fact, I hardly ever take my bracelet off. Only when showering, of course. If that isn't dedication to protecting yourself, then I don't know what is. "He wishes you to come by him at dinner. There is a restaurant he made a booking for."

"What'll I tell my Grandmother, though?"

"I don't know. Anything you can think of, I suppose, as an excuse to allow her to let you be away for a few hours."

"Why don't I just tell her I have a date with you?" I ask. It seems like an awesome idea to me.

"Of course." He gives me a wry look. "Your Grandmother would find nothing suspicious at all that you're going out on a date with an older man who could easily be mistaken as your father." His tone is very sarcastic. "I hardly think she would let you out of the house if she thought that. She would assume I was a paedophile for taking out a fourteen year old girl half my age aesthetically."

"Oh, please." I snort. "You really don't look that old. Gran wouldn't probably think anything of it."

"If you say so."

"What? You actually would?" Well, tizz. I certainly wasn't expecting that.

"I guess. Why not?"

I grin happily. "Cool. Pick me up when its dark out- obviously. Then you can drive me there since I don't have my license."

His expression turns into a mix between incredulous and mirth. It totally wrecks my drawing. "What? You think I would actually let you behind the wheel of my car? No fucking way."

Eric's right, of course, about my Granny finding it odd I have an older man taking me out to dinner. I can hear her thoughts, so -believe me- I would know. It certainly doesn't help when Eric shows up in his convertible and the way he dresses, a bit like a creeper. Tonight he wears dark tinted sunglasses even though it's dark out, and a black trench coat with the collar loosely tucked up around his neck, with denim jeans and his huge boots. He looks like a hipster pathetically trying his hardest to look younger than he actually is. I don't know if I'll actually have a sufficient enough dinner tonight to fill my tummy, so I bring a bag of candy with me, just in case.

I'm going through an odd phase of loving candy bananas. Eric often jokes I am turning into a monkey.

Although he's a thousand-year old vampire, and I'm way way younger, surprisingly somehow we've developed a great friendship. Our personalities clash from time to time, and he doesn't like to smile much; whereas I'm a happy-go-lucky type of girl who laughs at things and doesn't take herself too seriously.

"If you're not a rich vampire," I say, as we drive along the dark highway, "Then how did you manage to afford such a cool car?" His red Corvette really is the coolest car I've ever seen; You can even have the roof down automatically at the click of a button.

"I'm not rich, believe me."

I give him a side-long look. "You would have stocked up on a whole lot of money since you're so old, huh?"

"I'm not that old," he complains. He's funny about it. I always say it to tease him. He doesn't find it very funny, though; He always gets grumpy when I do.

"Why're you wearing glasses at night?"

"Because I can."

"You look like a C.I.A agent or something. It's silly."

"C.I.A agents don't go around escorting and mentoring annoying little fairy children, I bet."

"Ha-ha. You're the annoying one."

"I beg to differ on that. You're a pain in the ass."

"Right back at you, bud." I shove three bananas into my mouth, sucking on them loudly. I see Eric cringe in disgust.

"How is Tyra?"

"Tara," I correct easily. "And yes, she's great."

Tara and I are still best friends. Eric hasn't met her- of course he hasn't- but I talk about her all the time.

"Her Momma gets on her nerves, though. She still has her nasty little drinking habit. Tara fears she's gonna die soon, because she's that addicted."

"Death would be a blessing for her, I'm sure."

"A blessing?" I scoff. "That's harsh, you dead meanie."

"Now who's being harsh?" he mutters, pretending to be wounded.

"Well, that's what you are. How is your girlfriend, by the way?" I know she isn't really his girlfriend, but I love getting him annoyed by saying it.

"Pamela isn't my girlfriend," he argues, just like I'm expecting he will. "How many times do I have to tell you that? She's my progeny."

"Your prognay, whatever."

"Pro- geny," he says, slowly and carefully.

I ignore him. "What does my Grandfather want from me, anyhow?"

"He wants to know of your progress," he tells me informatively. "I have filled him in, but he wants to witness it for himself just how you are progressing with your skills. Also, he wanted to treat you to dinner."

"Well, that's very... sweet of him, I guess."

Once we get to the restaurant, he unbuckles my seatbelt for me (like I'm incompetent to do it myself) and out of his car we go. It doesn't look very busy; There is only two cars parked in the lot, excluding Eric's. We go through a back entrance, and I peer up at Eric's face as he opens the door for me. He looks nervous, and as if he is biting the tip of his tongue. It makes me feel nervous in return, and I clasp my hands out in front of me as I look around curiously. It's a dimly lit restaurant with only one couple midway through eating their food. We walk to a table where a man is sitting all by his lonesome, resting his palm on his walking stick. I instantly remember him from that one only meeting as a younger girl. He hasn't changed one bit; He still has the pointy ears and the white hair. He smiles as he sees me and gets to his feet stiffly, like his knees are hurting.

"My child," he greets, opening one arm out to me while the other stays planted on his walking stick to support himself and keep him upright. "Alas, we meet again! How is my great-granddaughter?"

A bit awkwardly, I hug him, and he swoops down to kiss me on the cheek. His lips feel all puckered and wrinkled, like crinkled tissue paper.

"Hey there, great-grandfather." It feels weird on the tip of my tongue, but it's true. He is my great-grandfather, and he's a fairy. Exactly like me. He pulls out a chair for me to sit, so I do. Eric pulls out the chair near me, and sits too, crossing his arms over his chest and looking solemn, like he is my bodyguard.

"Now, how about we get down to business. How is progress?"

Suddenly, I feel as if I'm sitting down to start a major school test.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It turned out to be the strangest evening ever. My fairy Grandfather asked me to do these things, such as opening my mind to him (as he called it) and made me listen into his thoughts. Because we were in a restaurant out in public, I couldn't show him all that I could do, as far as raising light from my fingers goes. My fairy Grandfather said it would have frightened away whatever was left of the small group of customers eating out for the night. Luckily, Eric was there to confirm and back-up my progress. Apparently my fairy Grandfather wasn't all that pleased and felt I was lacking with my skills. He didn't exactly say it to my face- he probably assumed I was far too fragile to take it- but I did hear the disapproval in his thoughts and they way he shook his head at Eric in disappointment. Eventually, we ended up getting dinner, but I had already spoiled most of my appetite with my candy bananas so I didn't end up eating the salmon I was served. My fairy grandfather asked me about my life, and how I was coping with my gift at school, which was nice, I supposed. He sounded as if he truly cared about how I was feeling, when I confessed that it frustrated the life out of me because it made it far too difficult for me to concentrate. After dinner, he kissed me goodbye on the cheek again, said, "We will be in contact soon, dear heart," and told me to wait by the door so he could fit in a few conversations to Eric without my overhearing.

It makes me slightly worried as I watch the way he talks to Eric. By their stiff body language, I would say they were arguing. You didn't need to be the smartest bunch out of the litter to know that my fairy relative was not at all pleased with my vampire friend. I want to know what he said to Eric, but on the drive home Eric doesn't say anything to me at all on the subject. He just sits there behind the wheel of his car, driving us along in dead-silence. I know him well enough by now to tell that he is angry; His fangs are shining below his upper lip, which they tend to do when he is mad at something, and his eyes are hard slits as he looks out the windshield.

Just to break the awkward tension, I offer him one of my candy bananas, trying to be polite. Then I laugh to myself because I remember belatedly that he is dead, and he can't eat candy. Oh, well. It was worth the try. "So," I prompt.

"So?" He still won't look at me.

"What did he have to say on my progress? I don't think he was very pleased..."

His hands tighten over the steering wheel to the point where I start to worry he is going to end up snapping it in half. "Well, you thought right. He wasn't."

"Why not?" I ask, with worry. "I mean, you've taught me enough. Haven't you?"

"Apparently not enough. He believes you are underdeveloped for all the years I have mentored you. He believes I am being lazy with you. Too much play, and not enough hard work."

"That's bull," I explode angrily. "I know how to make light come out of my fingers. I know how to put up a mental shield." My mental shield only lasted for a certain amount of time, and depended on how many people were in the room. If it was an assembly of people, the harder it got to block them out. But I thought we had done pretty well. I thought Eric was a decent enough teacher. Niall was just being pushy. "What more can I possibly have to learn?"

He sighs. "You haven't learned teleportation just yet, and you haven't learned how to use your light efficiently to guard yourself from enemies." It's true; I can only use my light if I think about things hardly, and get myself into a huff. So far, I have only managed to push small objects away from me; Like a glass of water, and china plates. Gran wasn't very happy I had smashed her favourite china wear, but then they always say that practise makes perfect.

"Where are my enemies, though?" I ask, shaking my head. "Where are they? Because, so far, I haven't come across any. I haven't experienced any danger yet. Judging by the way my Grandpa is so adamant that I should learn how to protect myself, my life has been pretty dull and tame so far. I'm sure that if I came across an enemy anytime soon I'd get better at my skills; I just need to be thrown into the face of danger to really learn!"

Eric is a very fast driver, I learn, because along with my words, I feel the car increasing speed. I'm pretty sure he is going way past the normal speed limit; And I don't even need my license to know that. I guess vampire's are lead foots when they're frustrated.

"Slow down, dead man," I warn him, in a terribly shaky voice. My parent's died in a car. I don't exactly want to follow in their footsteps anytime soon. "You are a god-awful driver, Mr Northman."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are."

"I've had my license for over forty-years," he tells me smugly, "And not once in that timeframe have I ever gotten so much as _one_ speeding ticket for driving over the limit."

I almost laugh out loud. "I guess them policemen aren't good at their jobs, then. I'm surprised you haven't gotten, like, heaps and heaps considering how old you are!" I turn to face him slightly in my seat, hating the way the seatbelt digs into me. "D'you know what I would do first thing if I was a policewoman?"

"What? Never quit running your mouth and indulging in lolly bananas every hour?"

"Nope." I snort. "I'd be constantly on the lookout after dark for an old man driving a red convertible and speeding. Then I'd take his licence from him and make him have to fly away places instead."

"I would glamour you and make you forget all about it," he says, under his breath.

"But you wouldn't be able to," I tease him in a prissy voice, "Because I would still be a fairy and I'd be immune to your powers. So, suck that!"

He takes in a deep breath. "Then I would resort to eating you."

"Eating me?" I feel my eyes widen in disgust. "What, so you'd kill a poor innocent policewoman just for doing her job? How awful of you!"

"I can be an extremely dangerous man."

Now I find that very hard to believe. "Sure, you're very dangerous whenever you're around me. You listen to my iPod on full-blast, and sometimes you read my romance novels, but secretly pretend you're not. That's very scary and dangerous of you." I laugh out loud.

"I don't read your romance novels, thank you," he mutters, far too defensively.

"Oh, you so do. I know you do, because whenever I go to read one myself I notice that you've crinkled down the corner of the page to keep your place until the next time you pop around!"

"Why do you read those sappy things anyhow?"

"I don't know." I think it over for a moment pensively. "I guess it's a nice distraction. I'm always looking forward to reading news things."

"They're a bit saucy for a girl your age, aren't they?" He realizes his mistake the instance he says it and clears his throat, adding, "Not that I read them, of course. I might have just read a chapter out of curiosity." He shrugs, seemingly trying too hard to be nonchalant. I have to stifle down a giggle. "And that chapter, I might as well admit, bored the fuck out of me. Who spends twenty-five minutes kissing someone? Those books aren't very realistic..."

"What, you wouldn't kiss someone before you made love to them?"

"I wouldn't. I like getting straight down to business." It feels weird to be having this conversation, like it is something that really shouldn't be discussed. But I'm sincerely curious. Sue me for it, if you will. "And by the way, I do not make love. I fuck."

"That's good to know," I mutter wryly, feeling my cheeks redden. Ick, gross. We pass an all-night gas station, and Eric makes a swift U-turn to get some gas. I keep my eyes up ahead as he fills up the car, looking out the windscreen. I watch him as he goes off to pay for the gas he has gotten for his car curiously. A car drives into the gas station near his convertible, and they are playing music real, real loud. I'm surprised it isn't damaging their hearing. I watch as a grungy-looking man climbs out of the car. His hair is long, black, and shoulder-length. He looks real scruffy. He walks over the side of his car and without warning, he runs to wrench open my door. Before I know it, his hand is clamping down on my wrist and yanking me out of the car to my feet.

"What the hell?" I shriek, feeling frightened. Because I'm so shaky, my adrenaline is pulsing, and I'm slightly angry, I hardly know what I'm doing, until it happens. I blast him in the chest and he flies back onto the ground with a loud thud. He starts crying and saying that his back hurts like hell. He calls me a few other names, that I won't repeat, because I take my upbringing as a good Christian seriously. All I will say, is that it disgusts me; the vile words that fall off his tongue at me, in all his rage. He makes a funny noise, and then the oddest thing happens. Before my very own eyes his clothes start ripping loudly into shreds, and his body vibrates. And then, no longer is he a dirty man, but a dastardly wolf.

I hear the bell to the gas station give out a little jingle, and Eric is standing there. It takes him less than half a second to realize what is going on, and he yells, very helpfully, "Sookie, run!"

I have no problem with doing that. Only my running sort of eggs the wolf on.

Oh, crap. This isn't good.


End file.
